


Lebensmüde

by orphan_account



Series: Lost in Translation [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Multi, One-Shot, cause why not, not gonna tag characters cause i’m lazy and it’s literally twelve, re-tagging this thing, sorta angst cause i’m not sure if i can actually write angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 04:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lebensmüde – [Deutsch] weary of lifeAustria and Prussia have never liked each other.Rodereich Edelsein and Gilbert Beilschmidt are madly in love.(The story of Gilbert and Rodereich throughout the years, told through the eyes of Austria.)





	Lebensmüde

Gilbert is, naturally, a loud person.

 

It’s a well-known fact, like how you should never, _ever_ , under any circumstances eat food made by Arthur, or that Antonio has the best ass out of them all.

 

So when Rodereich sees him sitting alone in the shadows of his room clutching his old flute as if it was a life line, he knows. He knows, that Gilbert is mourning. Mourning, for everything he’s lost today, half a century ago.

 

So he sits down beside the albino, in a room that’s untouchable by time, treasures from bygone times as pristine as always. (It always surprises people to find that Gilbert would actually care about cleanliness; Rodereich can’t help but feel amazed that he’s one of the few who knows.)

 

“M’not in the mood.” Gilbert absentmindedly moves his hands on the instrument, fingers playing a tune long forgotten to most.

 

But not to the both of them.

 

_Preußenlied_ , he thinks, because Rodereich is a musician too, and he’d be damned if he ever forgot Gilbert’s song.

 

“Okay.” he says. He waits, because he knows that Gilbert needs time. Because he knows and could count on one hand the number of people who’ve seen him like this, with his flippant and loud veneer gone.

 

It’s funny how much you can learn about someone after centuries of fighting.

 

“I just– ” the former nation starts, “It’s just so stupid, y’know? Gott, I used to be so great– and– and now I’m so fucking _pathetic_.”

 

He turns to Rodereich, and the Austrian can see the bright gleam of his vermillion irises, can see the unshed tears in his eyes.

 

Rodereich sighs. He holds his arms out, and Gilbert collapses in a heap, clutching at his clothes. He cards a hand through Gilbert’s hair, and holds him tight with the other.

 

“I don’t even know how I’m still alive— why? Why should I live when Vater and Holy Rome are gone? I’m sick of this, Rodereich.” Gilbert manages to choke out, tears making tracks on his face. “I’m tired. I’m just so...tired of everything.”

 

“I know.” says Rodereich. Because he does. Because he, too, knows the pain of falling from glory all too well, of seeing empires built from the blood, sweat, and tears of their people crumble away.

 

Such was the curse of immortality.

 

“I’m sorry— your clothes,” Gilbert says with a bitter laugh. “I swear to god, centuries later, and the only thing that hasn’t changed are your lame old man clothes.”

 

Rodereich remains silent, but tightens his arms around Gilbert. Insults dished out between them have lost all their bite, worn away by time.

 

Centuries later, Rodereich thinks, and they’ve come so far. He remembers decades of clashing with Prussia as a kingdom, and he remembers fighting two world wars alongside the other.

 

He remembers an autumn night, during the Second Schleswig War.

 

_September, 1864_

 

_“Austria!” Austria turns around, and stops as Prussia catches up to him._

 

_“Is there something you need, Prussia?”_

 

_The albino chews on his lips. “Aus– ‘Reich, I wanna bring you somewhere.” Rolling his eyes at the ridiculous nickname, Austria trails after the albino._

 

_(Behind closed doors, they call each other Gilbert and Rodereich, and they pretend that their countries were not in a constant state of war, that their countries didn’t hate each other– pretend that it wasn’t wrong to fall for one’s sworn enemy.)_

 

_It’s a stairway to the roof, and Austria reluctantly accepts the hand offered to him. They sit atop the tiles, and Austria turns to Prussia, arching an eyebrow._

 

_The albino fumbles around in the pocket of his trousers, and takes out two gold bands._

 

_“Look, I’m not stupid,” Prussia starts. Austria snorts, and the other male gives him an exasperated look. “I know that Denmark is gonna surrender any time now, and it won’t be long till our countries go back to hating each other.” Till Prussia and Austria start fighting on opposite sides again._

 

_Prussia chews on his bottom lip, before continuing: “But it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. And this,” he holds up a ring, “Is my promise to you. Austria and Prussia may hate each other, but Gilbert Beilschmidt will always love you, and I’ll never leave you, and I swear, to forever be yours, if you’ll be mine.”_

 

_Oh._ Oh.

 

_He’s proposing, Austria thinks, and the brunette blushes as he swipes at his eyes._ _He takes the ring and slips it on his finger, and the other one on Prussia’s._

 

_He leans in, and they kiss under the light of a thousand stars._

 

_“I love you too, be it Gilbert Beilschmidt or Prussia.”_

 

The memory had long since faded to the recesses of his mind, a beloved chapter in the story of Gilbert and Rodereich. They’re no longer on top of the world now; hell, Prussia isn’t even a country anymore.

 

And Rodereich remembers how he’s never been more scared in his life when the war had ended, remembers how Gilbert was ripped from his life, all because of the actions of one man, a coward and a hypocrite who didn’t even have the guts to finish what he started.

 

_February, 1947_

 

_Rodereich stands besides Gilbert when they pronounce Prussia dissolved. Silence encompasses the room as everyone turns to look at Gilbert.  
_

 

_He takes Rodereich’s hand and clasps them together, his knuckles turning white. The rings are no longer on their fingers, they’ve taken to wearing it on chains around their necks ever since Adolf Hitler had rose to power._

 

_(Rodereich had never liked the man, had always been ashamed that Hitler was one of his. He remembers the victims of the Third Reich, remembers the friendships torn apart– remembers how Gilbert had wept in his arms when they had seized France, remembers the relief in his eyes when Francis wasn’t among the officials captured, and he feels shame and hatred well up in him for the Nazi commander.)_

 

_A moment passes, and when it’s clear that nothing’s happening to Gilbert, they look away, and go back to doing whatever they were._

 

_Rodereich grits his teeth. They were waiting for something to happen, he realises, for Gilbert to die or whatever it is happened to their kind when their country was gone._

 

_It wasn’t fair, he thinks, it wasn’t fair that Gilbert should pay the price for a man they didn’t even support._

 

_Ivan approaches, and smiles at them. “I think it’s time for Gilbert to come with me, yes?”_

 

_“What?” Gilbert asks, shocked._

 

_“Well, the Allies are dividing Germany into two,” Ivan starts, “Since you’re not… dead, I get you and the rest of them get your brother.”_

 

_Rodereich starts, “You can’t do that– the agreement was the land, not the personification!”_

 

_He’s shocked by his outburst, and it seems that even Ivan is too. The room turns deathly silent yet again, this time as Austria stands up to the Soviet Union._

 

_“I’m sorry?” Russia blinks. “Last I checked, we won the war, and you_ lost _, Austria.”_

 

_Rodereich makes to step towards him, but Vasch is at his side in an instant, holding him back._

 

_“Leave Roderei– Austria out of this, Braginsky,” Gilbert cuts in, “If you want me, I’ll come with you.”_

 

_Rodereich tries to argue– didn’t Gilbert know that going with Ivan meant a fate worse than death? Didn’t he hear the whispers of the horrors of the Soviet Union?_

 

_But Vasch whispers in his ears, “He’s doing it for you, the damn fool– you know Ivan would get his way anyway, so for your lover’s sake, shut up.”_

 

And Rodereich remembers how he had lived in fear, not for himself but for Gilbert for the years to come.

 

He’s heard the rumours, heard about the scars on Toris’s back, heard about how power and greed had turned Ivan from Russia to the Soviet Union, an entity even Alfred, who steadily gains power and strength as the years go by, dare not cross.

 

_November, 1989_

 

_The wall is falling. It’s been almost three decades since Rodereich has last seen Gilbert._

 

_For once the Austrian doesn’t care that his hair isn’t gelled and his clothes are wrinkled from travel, because the wall is falling, and the Cold War ends at last, something he’d never thought would happen._

 

_The gates open, and Rodereich is pushing through the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of silver-white hair. Suddenly, hands are on his, and he’s pulled out of the crowd._

 

_It was Gilbert, and it wasn’t Gilbert at the same time._

 

_The albino was paler than he usually was, his frame gaunt and his eyes dull. Rodereich knows that he should’ve expected it, for he had known the reasons why no one dared cross Ivan Braginsky, should’ve expected that even Gilbert Beilschmidt, who’s survived the fall from grace as his kingdom turns into a state, and then the dissolution of his country, wouldn’t come out unscathed. And yet it pierces his heart to see Gilbert brought so low, to see the fight lost– stolen from him._

 

_But Gilbert smiles at him all the same, and the years fade away and they’re back on that rooftop in Königsberg once more._

 

_Gilbert grasps Rodereich’s hand, and the gold band on his finger shines bright. “You kept my ring.” he says, grinning like a fool._

 

_Rodereich laughs. He laughs, because it’s the most silly and_ Gilbert _thing the Prussian would say. Because his Gilbert is still in there, somewhere under years of abuse and hardship._

 

_“You kept your promise, didn’t you?”_

 

He feels the weight of the ring on his finger, an oath from Gilbert ages ago, and Rodereich decides that it’s alright.

 

It’s alright, because Prussia may be gone forever, but Gilbert Beilschmidt will always be there.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so uhm this is the first time I’ve posted any of my writings online, so please go easy on me Owo  
> any Russia lovers out there: please don’t kill me!– don’t get me wrong APH Russia is one of my fave cinnamon rolls, but this is written in Austria’s PoV and I’m trying to stay true to canon so the fear of Russia has to be there. 
> 
> hopefully more to come~


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